


The Waiting

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-04
Updated: 2004-04-04
Packaged: 2018-12-29 02:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12072552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian waits for news of Justin in a cold room in the airport to find himself talking to a stranger.





	The Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

“Wait here, Jenna. I'm going to sort this out.” Dad said gruffly, his face white and his lips whiter. I watched numbly as he went to argue with the harassed woman at the desk, demanding answers and knowing she had none. Dad was just like that. 

I glanced at the man sitting next to me, who was staring into space with a blank expression. I wondered which of his loved ones were on the plane. Wife? Child? Father? … Mother?

My mum was on the plane. The missing plane. Dad and I were waiting for her to return from her trip to New York, just a few hours ago. We sat in awkward silence as we waited for the moment when she would step out of the gate and make everything better. The moment never came. Instead we were hustled to this tiny room and told her plane was ‘missing’. How can you lose a fucking airplane? It’s beyond me.

They told us there was bad weather and the plane went down, but they aren’t able to track it yet. Doesn’t make any sense to me, but then, nothing much does right now. 

The man beside me shifted, pulling a flask from his pocket and taking a deep swig. He closed his eyes and let his head lean against the cold marble wall behind us, the very picture of misery. 

“Can I have a bit?” I asked, the words leaving my lips before I had time to process them. He jerked, as though only noticing I was there for the first time. Silently, he passed me the flask. I nodded thanks and sipped the contents, my throat burning the moment it slid down. Whisky. I passed it back and glanced to my dad, who was now talking with a security guard, shoving money into his hands. Just like dad. Throw money at the problem and maybe it’ll go away. 

“Your old man?” The voice was pierced through my thoughts. It took a moment to realise the question was directed at me and I turned to the man beside me.

“Yeah. My mum’s on the plane.” I said, my voice hoarse from crying and whisky. I looked away and felt tears slide down my cheek. I wiped them away roughly. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. “What ‘bout you? Who’re you waiting for?” I asked, looking up again. We all were waiting for them to arrive or waiting to find out their dead. It’s the worst torture, you know. Waiting. 

“My Justin.” He muttered, taking another swig from the flask. I didn’t push the matter. The silence stretched on and I stood, stretching my muscles. I walked towards the table in the corner of the room, intent on getting a cup of coffee from the machine. I hated coffee. Dad said it was an acquired taste that a girl my age, fifteen, hasn’t learnt to appreciate it yet. I looked to where he’d been standing and realised Dad had gone to see the person in charge. I was alone. 

I poured myself a cup of the black, steaming liquid. I moved back towards my seat and saw the man I had been talking to still sitting there, unmoving. I poured another cup for him and returned. “I’m Jenna.” I said, offering him it. There was no need for second names, we’d probably never see each other again. He opened his eyes and took it silently, tipping the boiling stuff down his throat without flinching.

“I’m Brian.” No more words, there was no need for them. 

“I’m scared.” I blurted, warming my hands with the cup. “I’m really, really fucking scared. You can see it in their eyes, the staff I mean. You can see that they know something but they won’t tell us. I’d know if she were dead, though. Wouldn’t I? I’d be able to feel it if mum was dead, because you can always feel someone you love. At least I think I would. But I ‘m so confused. I’m just so tired and I want to just go home and forget everything, you know?” I rambled, the words spilling from my lips. 

“Yeah, I know.” Brian said. And he did. His Justin was on board, whoever that was. 

“If mum’s dead, I’ll be all alone with him. I don’t know what I’ll do if that happens. I think I’ll just die. I’d want to die, I think. Just curl up in my bed and …”

“Never wake up.” Brian finished, seeming un-phased by my outburst. “Justin went to New York to sort out his art show. He wanted me to come but I was too busy. Work. We had a fight. I should be on that plane with him instead of sitting here on my ass waiting to find out if he’s ...” He trailed off, crushing the paper coffee cup in his palms. 

“Did you ever tell him you love him?” I asked, watching Brian’s pale face. Brian looked up sharply, falcon eyes scanning me, searching for my intent. I wasn’t being sarcastic or disdainful, just curious. 

“No.” Brian’s answer was clipped and he averted his gaze back to the wall opposite. “No. No such thing as that love bullshit.” He said, his words without conviction, said through practice and stubbornness. He didn’t really believe it anymore. 

“I think he knows.” I said, ignoring his answer. 

“Why do you think that?” Brian asked, his voice weary and cracked with unshed tears.

“Because I know, and I only met you a few minutes ago.” I said quietly, placing the paper cup with the cold coffee under my seat. “Jenna! Get your bag, we’re going to a different room.” Dad’s voice snapped. I looked up and sighed, just in time to see him leave the little room. I could hear his voice outside, angry and frustrated.

I stood and Brian stood with me. I wrapped him in a tight, quick hug and kissed his cheek. 

“Good luck,” I said. 

”Good luck. And thanks.” I flashed a small smile back before making my way through the crying wives and the screaming babies to my dad, waiting for me at the door. 

I glanced back to the sad smile on Brian’s face and I knew no matter what happened things were going to be alright. Justin knew Brian loved him and Mum knew I loved her. In the end, that's all that matters.

Yeah, things were going to be just fine.


End file.
